


Never Leave Your Side

by Ser_Thirst_A_Lot



Series: 🍷 (Handers-centric) DA Drunk Writing Circle ⭕️ [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Needs a Hug, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Thirst_A_Lot/pseuds/Ser_Thirst_A_Lot
Summary: "I ruined," Anders choked out, "your life.""You've ruined nothing," Hawke lied, surely, even as his voice was laden with sincerity, "youaremy life.”
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Series: 🍷 (Handers-centric) DA Drunk Writing Circle ⭕️ [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158695
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	Never Leave Your Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightprelude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightprelude/gifts).



> tw: possible suicidal ideation
> 
> every handers writer must write at least one fic featuring anders wrecked with guilt post-kirkwall and hawke comforting him with the unbridled all-encompassing love he has reserved for the possessed disaster apostate mage only
> 
> enjoy!💙
> 
> 🎶 The world of Dragon Age is intrinsically connected to music. The Song of lyrium and the broken Song of its red counterpart, the Song of the Old Gods and the maddening music of the Calling, the Chant of Light, and the times of long past when 'everything sang the same.' To honor that, each of my DA fics will be accompanied by a soundtrack. For this one, it's **Follow You** by **Bring Me the Horizon**

* * *

(You are a mistake.)

Anders stared at the burning beacon that was Kirkwall fading in the distance, clouded in smoke. A view he never thought he'd get to see—in these circumstances, at least, in this company. With Hawke standing right there beside him, one arm thrown around Anders' shoulders. A comforting, if solemn presence. Warm, despite the chilly silence hanging over them. Close, despite the widening divide of lies Anders had carved between them.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

(Your magic is a curse. _You_ are a curse.)

"L—Garrett," Anders started. The familiar warmth of 'love' didn't feel right. Didn't feel like something he could allow himself to say, at this point.

Hawke answered with a questioning hum, eyes trained on the city fast disappearing as the ship gained speed. Understandable. It was his home he was leaving behind. A home Anders had ripped away from him, crushed and burned it to the ground. A home he'd been allowed to share with Hawke, a kindness he dared not ask for, and yet Hawke gave it to him freely. Just like his trust, which Anders had broken.

His chest felt too small all of a sudden.

(All you bring is pain.)

_Anders couldn't breathe._

"What is it, love?"

The word slipped easily from Hawke's lips. Worry brimming in his gaze as he turned to look at Anders, shifted Anders' rigid body to face him. Hands, warm and gentle, caressed Anders' cheeks, running down his arms, sending soft pulses of soothing creation magic beneath his skin.

"Anders," Hawke said, frown marring his face, "listen to me. Focus on my voice, love. I need you to breathe. In, out. Slowly. Just like that. Come on. Breathe with me."

Hawke had a knack for bringing Anders out of these fleeting, if frequent bouts of panic. Never forceful, ever soft, and coaxing, and gentle with affection Anders took for himself, greedily, and gave back but a shadow, a broken, ugly thing, because he could never hope to give back enough, could he?

(You're a monster.)

Hawke embraced him for long minutes that dragged one after the other, each seeming an excruciating lifetime as harsh sobs ripped through Anders' chest, as tears fell and fell until he felt squeezed dry, until his throat felt like the ash he'd left in place of the Chantry, until his eyes burned with an echo of the pain that wrought his heart.

(Your magic only causes suffering.)

“I ruined your life.”

"What?"

Anders' words were too quiet, muffled from where his face was buried in Hawke's neck. Breathing came easier when he was surrounded by Hawke's familiar scent—smoke, and metal, and leather, mingled with the distinct cool tang of his magic Anders could discern thanks to Justice's sensitivity.

"Anders," Hawke implored, pushing Anders away just enough to look into his eyes. Warm golden-brown. A beautiful hue. Too full of the love Anders had lost the right to—if he ever had it in the first place. "Talk to me."

It turned out he was yet not empty of tears. A couple trickled down, quickly wiped away by calloused hands, or kissed away by soft, chapped lips.

(You'll never heal as many people as your accursed powers hurt.)

"I ruined," Anders choked out, "your life."

“You've ruined nothing." Hawke's voice is firm this time. Just shy of angry. Leaving no question as he gripped Anders' shoulders tight and repeated, "You haven't ruined _anything_. I _love_ you. I _choose_ to be with you. We've been over this, Anders—"

"YOU DON'T GET IT!"

The scream came as a surprise to Anders himself as it tore, raw and ragged, from his throat upon a broken sob.

"You _do_ n't—fuck, Garrett, it's not—" Panic prickled in his chest once more, and he tried to no avail to tear himself from Hawke's unwavering embrace because the fool _did not understand_. "If you'd never met me, if you'd—if you'd just walked away, I—but I ruined, _ruined_ everything and now you _can't_ have a life—because I'm—because I..."

(You ruin everything you touch.)

The kiss that silenced him is a fierce, rough, and heady one. Anders tasted the salt of his tears, mingled with the sharp tang of lyrium on both their lips from the ungodly amount of the liquid they'd downed in the battle. Hawke's kiss was a promise, a promise he'd made so many times that Anders _wished_ he would renounce in favor of a happier life.

_Without me._

Hawke's hands drawing him close were comfort, warmth, and home—a home Anders would always have if Hawke stayed with him always, because Hawke was all he needed, really, most days, to feel alive, whole, and complete.

_Selfish._

Hawke's gaze locked with his once they broke apart—and it bled with devotion, offered to Anders with no hesitation. If only Hawke wasn't so ready to offer it to the likes of him. If only Hawke was lucky enough to have never fallen in love with him.

_A liability._

There were truths Anders knew but learned to ignore, whispered as they were from behind metal helms and uttered from his mentors' lips, repeated as they were in the dreams that he'd stopped calling nightmares long ago because they plagued him each and every time he walked the Fade.

These were the truths Hawke defied just as he did everything and everyone that stood in his way, the unbreakable force of nature that he was.

"You've ruined nothing," Hawke lied, surely, even as his voice was laden with sincerity, "you _are_ my life.”

"You don't know what you're saying." Anders shook his head, trembled from head to toe with terror, and guilt, and fury directed at himself. "You don't know what you're choosing I—I'll never—I'm not..."

_Good enough._

_Strong enough._

_Worthy of you._

_The one who's going to make you happy._

(The world would be better off without you.)

Anders was blinded again, by tears that kept on flowing, and Hawke diligently wiped away each one he could catch.

"I couldn't live in a world without you, Anders," Hawke said. "We've been over this. Whatever happens, I will never leave your side." And Anders kissed him, if only to quiet such blasphemy, if only to avoid hearing his fears voiced out loud.

Fears that were quelled as Hawke's lips moved against his, stretching into a reassuring smile, and it was a few long, blissful minutes yet before they pulled apart, foreheads touching as they reveled in the closeness they _somehow_ still had after the chaos Anders wrought. Hawke's eyes were soft with the love Anders knew was mirrored in his own gaze, because his world was Garrett, because he loved him so much it _ached_ sometimes with that sweet kind of pleasure-pain that made Anders crave, madly, selfishly, for more.

"I love you," Anders said, cursing the words that sounded too dull, too small to encompass the magnitude of what he felt.

"I love you," Hawke said, Hawke _promised_ , sealing the oath with a kiss that pushed the rest of Anders' doubts away.

If only for the night, for but a moment—Anders believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for the read - and my eternal gratitude for any kudos and comments you may decide to leave. They mean the world💕
> 
> find me proudly defending the Anders Simping Collective on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ser_arts_a_lot)  
> [tumblr](https://ser-thirst-a-lot.tumblr.com/) (feel free to [shoot DA prompts](https://ser-thirst-a-lot.tumblr.com/prompt-away) my way anytime!)


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